


Downtime

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Destiny Week, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: Little ficlet about Zavala's Ghost trying and failing to get him to relax.





	Downtime

“Zavala?” Izanami coalesced beside her Guardian. Her shell whirred impatiently as she waited for a response. 

“Hmm?” Zavala didn’t look up from the field reports he was engrossed in reading. 

“It’s late.” She paused again. “It’s really late.” Another brief silence. “Do you realise how late it is?”

“I know, I know, just let me get through these last couple-” He got cut off by his Ghost placing herself between him and the texts on the desk. “Iz. No. Stop that.” 

“You stop.” She stubbornly settled on the desk, obscuring his view of the reports. 

“Don’t make me move you.”

“Don’t make me call Shaxx.” Izanami couldn’t manhandle the Commander back to his quarters but the Crucible handler could. She had called on Shaxx before to help her make Zavala take some proper rest and she wasn’t be above doing it again.

“All right, all right. I’ll call it a night.” He stood and rolled his shoulders back, working out the kinks and aches that had resulted from him sitting hunched over his desk for so long. He is tired, Izanami can tell from the way he trudges back to his private quarters. 

She issued instructions periodically after he arrived home, “Take a shower,” “Remember to eat something,” “don’t check your messages, they can wait…” On nights like this, she almost missed the days when he was in the field. Alerting him to enemies and protecting him from the odd hail of bullets was an easier task than making sure he looked after himself. 

Once Zavala had taken care of his ablutions, been fed and watered, he asked her a question she loved to hear. 

“Would you like to read with me tonight?” 

Izanami whipped around to face him and the tips of her shell pointed upwards in an expression of happiness. “Can I choose?”

“Go on,” he said, smiling ever so faintly.

She scanned the shelves looking for something suitable. Nothing too heavy, something soothing. She spotted a slim volume of poetry lying on top of some other books. Perfect. 

“Omar Khayyam!” She had no idea who this pre-golden age poet was but if she could have met him, she would have showered with thanks him for his beautiful, ‘what will be will be’ philosophy on life. It was what her Guardian needed to hear right then. Zavala nodded in approval at her choice and enthusiasm before picking up the book and heading for his bedroom. Izanami waited for him to get comfortable in bed before settling on his shoulder.  
Izanami followed the lines of text along with her Guardian. She could have read the whole book in seconds had she wished but there was something so relaxing about keeping pace with him. After a time, she pulled back a little to look at his expression. She was always a faster reader than him but this was unusually slow. He was frowning, distracted. If she had lungs she would have sighed deeply in disappointment. He was obviously not concentrating on the poems. He was probably thinking about troop movements, Crucible reports or the ever-competing demands of the Factions. 

“Zavala?” She began gently. 

“Hm?” He snapped out of his reverie.

“Are you going to turn the page? It's been over twenty minutes.” 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Iz. I don't really think I'm in the mood for reading tonight.”

“Okay.” Izanami replied, making a perfunctory attempt to hide her disappointment. 

“There'll be a digital copy of this in the City archives, you could access it there.”

“It's not the same. I prefer reading with you.” The little droid floated down from her perch on his shoulder and turned to face him. Her shell expanded then almost instantly contracted again, as though she intended to speak but thought better of it.

“What's wrong?” He asked. 

“You work too hard.” She replied. Her optic dropped downwards, leaving his gaze. “You work too hard and even when you’re meant to be resting, you’re still working in your head.”

“Someone has to.”

She looks back up at him. “It doesn’t have to be you, all the time.” She emphasises the last three words with a little bob of her shell on each syllable. “You have to come up for air sometimes. You’re no use to anyone if you’re exhausted all the time.”

“I’m all right, Izanami. I know my limits.”

“I don’t want you to be all right, I want you to be happy.” She thought back to how things were before he took on the crushing burden of being Vanguard Commander. Before Mare Imbrium and how he had decided it was up to him and him alone sort out that aftermath of that disaster. Of course there had been hardships back then, but there had been laughter too. Izanami couldn’t help but feel privileged that she was one of the few in the Tower that ever saw him smile. Even for her it was rare. 

“That’s not really an option right now, Izanami.” He offered her his palm, which she gratefully settled in. She gazed up at him attentively. 

“What can I do? Tell me how to help.” He picked up the book with his free hand and began leafing through it.

“Here. Where did we get to before I zoned out?”

“About page five?”

“Why don't you read to me for a while? Nudge me when it's time to turn to the page. I might be less inclined to get distracted if I’m listening to you.”

“All right.” She floated back up to her vantage point on his shoulder. 

“Try not to worry so much about me?”

“It’s my job to worry about you. That’s why the Traveler made me.”


End file.
